Chapter 17
You've had no sleep.
Hands firmly wrapped around a cup of coffee, you sigh and stare into the swirling drink, feeling caffeine washing through you. You know with your lack of sleep, caffeine isn't exactly good, but you need it.
You tug at your sleeves, a nervous habit of yours. Nearly everything you own is long-sleeved anyway- you do, in fact, need to cover up the scars.
You lightly flinch as you hear footsteps, and turn around to see Tony walking down the stairs. You pray to god he didn't see you flinch.
"Are you okay, baby girl? How are you feeling?"
So maybe he did notice the flinch.
"I'm fine." You lie. "I'm really fine, dad." To avoid his stare, you turn around to make him another coffee. You already know his requirements.
"You sure?"
"Yeah." You take another sip of your coffee, washing down any guilt in your system. It's sweet and creamy- just as you like it.
"What happened yesterday?"
Oh, god. You know it's your dad and he's just concerned, but you can't help but feel frustrated- everybody is asking you that, and it's not like they give a shit anyway.
You ducked your head. "He just looked a bit similar..... to someone I knew. From...." you can't say the name, and he just nods. His hand rubs circles in your back, but abruptly stops as he hugs you tightly. You cling into the warmth.
"I love you, kiddo." He whispers exaggeratedly.
You smile. You love it when he says that. "I love you too, dad." Then tearing away from him. "And here's your coffee."
He gives you a thumbs-up. "In that case, I really need to go try a few new things out." Winking, he slips out of the room with the coffee you made him.
As soon as his footsteps fade, you let the smile slide from your face and replace it with the expressionless straight face you usually put on.
There are footsteps down the stairs, and you whip around, your eyes wide. The feet pattern is the exact same as Bucky-
Because it is him.
He descends the stairs and you decide to distract yourself by making him a coffee too. Your hand shakes as it presses the button on the coffee machine and tries to ignore the chair next to you scraping back and him seating himself on it.
You take another sip of coffee and grabs the cup from beneath the machine, handing it to him. "H...here." Your voice comes out smaller than it usually is.
He dips his head. "Thank you." Unlike yours, the super soldier's voice is steady and firm. You feel your breath hitch as his fingers ghost over yours.
Bucky's face is expressionless as he grabs the knife and cuts into your skin without a second thought.
You reel back from him and bury your face into your oversized sweater, breathing in Tony's scent slightly mangled with Clint's. It's Clint's sweater, him and you taking turns wearing it when you commented that one day he smelled nice. The Tony part is from when he hugged you.
Shh. There's here. You're okay. You tell yourself, and breathe one more time.
Good.
You look up and your heart lurches to see Bucky staring at you.
It's not the same stare. The Winter Soldier is just a cruel inhuman wearing the skin of Bucky Barnes.
But they look so damn similar.
You can't help but notice how his eyes fill with guilt when he sees you like this.
It makes you feel worse.
So, for your and his sake both, you desperately hide your face under the sweater. You try to calm yourself.
You refuse to look at him in the eyes. "H... have you had breakfast?" Your voice sounds hesitant and incredibly weak, and you internally beat yourself up for that. "When did y...you wake up?"
He shook his head no. "Didn't sleep."
That voice sends shivers down your spine. That voice is the voice that interrogated you while you were being hurt by the very metal hand you were seeing right now, yet that voice is the voice that played with your mind every night in the cell, the one that would declare how cute you were before kissing you roughly. It was that voice.
You loved it so much, yet you wanted to shiver and cry out at the mere hint of it.
"N...neither did I..." You mentally scold yourself for stuttering. "I... I know how to cook.... should I make you some?"
He blinks in surprise, and then shrugs. "If you want to."
You just smile, although you know it's so fake. You down the last of your drink before scraping back your chair and heading over to the gas stove. With expert hands, you flip it on with a tap (thanks to Tony's ridiculous knack for newest tech for everything, even the gas stoves) and sets a fry pan on the stove. You squeeze some oil onto it and tie your hair back with your hands. Cooking clears your mind. Cooking is good. Cooking is regular.
Breathing deeply, you calm your frantic mind and try to block out the man staring at you- the man you both loved and hated. You crack two eggs and dump them onto the frying pan, taking out your spatula, and wait for it to flip.
"You seem like you've done this a lot before."
"I have." You snap, then inhale sharply through your nose. "S...sorry for being rude."
"That wasn't rude." An amused expression. "That was the streak of the old (Y/N) I used to know."
"Before you fucking locked me in a cell, you mean, you asshat!" Feeling a tiny bit for lashing out at him, you quickly flip the eggs.
Bucky's silent, then he looks up and with a calm voice says, "I'm sorry."
You feel a pang of guilt at his sad stare. His guilty stare. His stare that seems to say, I'm so sorry....please forgive me.
I can't ever forgive you for what you did, your gaze seems to say. Not the fact that you tortured me, but the fact that you loved me, you fed me with your lies about how we were so happy, then how you didn't hesitate to turn your back on me.
The eggs are done. You turn the stove off, before it burns, and set those on a plate, sliding it over to him. He looks intently at your sleeves.
"You should have your sleeves up when you cook; they might catch fire." He quietly says, and you curse internally for having this soft spot in you that doesn't want to hate him.
He looks down at the two eggs on his plate. "Thank you."
You turn, and flee.
The only thing you're good at.